We're A Midnight Fistfight
by zippystripe
Summary: Ste and Joel have a drunken brawl and iron out a few issues. Platonic!Stoel. T for violence/some swearing.


**We're A Midnight Fistfight**

It certainly wasn't the first time either of them had found themselves in a police station. Ste, your classic council estate chav: joyriding, drug dealing, numerous theft offences- and they were just the ones he'd actually been officially done for. Joel, from the worst part of a rough Glasgow neighbourhood and a horrendous home life; fighting, violence and criminal activity had been bred into his bones. Hell, he'd been on probation when he first arrived in the village. But neither of them had really meant for it to go as far as it did. It was just a little tiff, like so many of their disagreements…

…But this time, unlike the others, there'd been booze involved, and needless to say, this changed the game a just a little. Ste hadn't been in a good mood as it was since his rather sudden break-up with Doug, and had simply gone for a pint at the Dog to wind down rather than return to his empty, haunted flat. But of course, as Sod's Law would have it, Joel Dexter had been there, sitting at the other end of the bar with a sneer on his face and sipping at his beer.

Ste had more or less ignored him, not in the mood for any of his shit tonight. Instead, he planted the newspaper on the bar in front of him and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his pint greedily until he had to order another, and then another, all the while pretending to be engrossed in the story about a priest who'd recently been exposed for his double life as a stripper…

He'd felt his eyes boring into his skull still, but he tried his best to ignore it. What the hell was his problem?! Ste had never explicitly done anything to piss him off. He'd never even so much as had a bad thought about him until the other boy had made it perfectly clear that he did not feel the same way. But Ste wasn't about to start crying into his pillow about it. As far as he was concerned, it was his loss.

But that didn't stop them sassing at each other at every opportunity. And it didn't stop Joel glaring daggers at him from the other side of the room. Ste decided that he would try and see if he could… block it somehow, stupid though that sounded. He lifted the newspaper up in front of him, chancing a brief glance over the top of it before it blocked his view. Didn't really work. Joel could've glared holes through the paper, or so it felt.

Ste sighed in exasperation, folding the top of the newspaper down to glare back at him over it momentarily before he folded it up and tossed it back down on the bar. The younger boy didn't stop glaring at him.

Then he stood up, walked a few steps towards him until he was halfway there, looked him in the eye, placed his hands on his hips and said, "Sorry mate, you're not my type."

His eyes flashed in anger momentarily before he stood up and stormed over to the older boy, standing right in front of him, their faces inches apart and squaring up to each other, completely fearless. "You think you're funny eh?" He slurred, his accent thicker than usual.

Ste pouted and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, actually, I do." He said with a nod and a smirk.

Joel grabbed him by the collar and threw him down on the bar, lifting a fist to punch the blond in the face. His fist brushed Ste's jaw as he'd moved to dodge the blow, but it would leave a bruise nonetheless. Ignoring the commotion they were causing, Ste reached for his chest. In an obscene move, he pinched the other boy's nipple and twisted it painfully through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Shouting in pain, Joel's arms weakened and Ste took advantage of it to push him off. Once back on his feet, Joel didn't waste any time in lunging at him, but Ste threw him into the bar stool he'd been sitting on previously, causing Ste's glass to fall from the bar and shatter on the floor loudly. That'd probably leave a few bruises on his back. But Joel got up again in admirable time and went in for a punch, which connected, but not as hard as it could've done had he actually been sober.

Momentarily stunned, but not about to let the Scotsman get the better of him, Ste grabbed his arm and flung his own around his neck, looping it around there and holding him tightly in a headlock. Joel shouted loudly, drunkenly, punching Ste in the back, flailing like a wild animal and leaving red scratch marks on his skin. Maybe Ste should've left his jacket on, the fucker was scratching him to shreds...

With a grunt and baring his teeth in a vicious grin, Ste stamped on the other boy's feet repeatedly. Now that he had the upper hand, Ste paused and decided to have another dig. "You know your Theresa yeah?" He asked, slurring, not waiting for an answer, "well guess what? I 'ad her," he sassed, right in his ear, his tongue between his grinning teeth cheekily.

At this, Joel resorted to biting the other boy's wrist harshly, leaving a deep bite mark that would no doubt scar him for at least a little while. Ste gasped and stepped back in pain, shaking his wrist painfully. He was about to go for him again when Darren and Jack Osbourne, who'd been shouting at them since their brawl began grabbed them by their collars respectively and threw them out of the bar and onto the street.

"Not in my bar, lads, keep it outside if you must," Jack shouted at them as they walked back into the pub.

Panting, the two of them stood there in the night air and looked at each other angrily as they leaned forward on their knees, bruised and bloodied. Faced with the reality of what he'd done, Ste felt a bit guilty. He'd learnt to keep his cool. It had taken a lot of work, but he now knew how to control his temper. Obviously tonight was not one of those times where he could walk away, even though he was screaming at himself that he was better than this.

"Listen mate, I'm sorry about what I said, yeah? Can we just call it a night? I'm done."

"Shame, 'cause I'm not," Joel grunted, and Ste rolled his eyes. He might not be a bully anymore, but he wasn't about to take it lying down either.

Joel went for him again and punched him hard in the cheek. Ste spun slightly and then stumbled, gripping the railing by the river and pushing himself up with it. He rubbed at the area gently. That was going to leave a bruise.

Joel leant against the railing himself- he seemed to have hurt his leg when Ste pushed him into the bar and he'd fallen. It also looked like he might've split his lip on something on the way down too. Ste stood up and Joel mirrored him; is this what they were playing now?

They glared at each other hard in the eye, and the Scotsman pushed away from the railing before he all but limped up to him, but before he could land his next blow, Ste swung at him, planting a black eye on the side of the younger boy's face. Joel stumbled and fell to the ground with a thud.

It was then that Ste saw the flash of fluorescent work jackets out of the corner of his eyes, and he groaned inwardly. He was never going to hear the end of this.

[~]

So that was where that left them. Cuffed to opposite ends of the bench in the waiting room of the police station, where they'd found themselves many times before. They'd not said a word to each other since they'd come in; only been allowed up every now and then to use the phone or go to the bathroom while they waited for their cells to be emptied. Typical Saturday night.

Joel looked over at Ste, who was staring blankly at a point in the corner, looking as if he was ready to drop off the face of the Earth. What the hell was the fascination? He wasn't anything special. He co-owned a business, like him, he had a couple of kids that he seemed to take good care of, and yeah, he could hold his own in a fight- he knew that last one for a fact now. Brendan respected him a lot, but he knew why that was. However, this brought him to the question he'd found himself at plenty of times before: why was Brendan so crazy about him? God, but Brendan Brady didn't exactly waste his time with just anyone. What was it that had got him and so many so hooked? He couldn't figure it out.

Whatever it was, Joel didn't see it. He got on his nerves. He was stubborn, cheeky, a right little shit. Much like himself, not that he realised this. But he had to admit, now that he'd sobered up a bit, picking a fistfight with him for no good reason other than that he was jealous of him- not that he'd ever admit it- was probably not the way to go.

Ste had practically everything he wanted, and pretty much had had everything Joel had got for himself in the short time he'd been here before him, just short of the club, though he'd even worked there for some time. Brendan's respect, Cheryl's friendship, independence, kids, a happy relationship… even if his taste his partners weren't what Joel would have picked in a million years. (Namely, because they were blokes.) And what the hell had he ever done to deserve any of that?! Joel had had to fight tooth and nail for everything he'd got in his life and Ste, well, admittedly, he didn't know his history that well, but he just seemed to swan about and get whatever he wanted. Just because he had friends in high places. Because he knew how to bat his eyelids at the right person. It made him sick.

But hearing what the little bastard had to say about his girl, well, that was what had really pushed him over the edge. It was obviously a lie, since he was pretty sure Theresa didn't even know Ste, let alone think she would ever have been desperate enough to give him the time of day. But it was too far nonetheless.

In any case, fighting was not the right answer. Ever, really, but of course, young Joel didn't understand this.

"I'm sorry too," he mumbled after a moment, finally breaking the silence of the waiting room.

Ste looked up at him and eyed him suspiciously. "It's alright, mate," he replied after a moment.

Then it was quiet again.

"What you said about Theresa… it's not true, is it? You and her…"

Ste shook his head. He could've had another dig at him if he wanted, but to tell the truth, he wasn't in the mood for it anymore. So he lied. "No, it's not true. I was just winding you up."

Joel nodded.

"Why don't you like me?" Ste asked after a couple of minutes silence.

Joel was a little shocked at the question, but he didn't show it. "I don't know…" He mumbled. It was a lie, he knew the answer- it was jealousy.

"Oh."

"I mean… it's just hard to explain."

"Well, to be honest mate, I'm a bit sick of being glared at and beaten up by you for apparently no reason so if you could try it'd be a great help, ta."

The fire extinguisher on the wall across from him was suddenly very interesting. Staring at it, and not wanting to hold the other boy's gaze, he started explaining. "All my life, I've had to fight for everything, earn everything, explain myself for the simplest of needs," he began, "stupid things. Things that everyone else gets without asking… security, love, respect, those kinds of things." He began quietly, subdued, his voice hoarse.

Ste glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow, curious.

Joel continued. "And then I see you, with all of those things. And what do you do to get them? Nothing. You just walk around like you own the place, people love you, they respect you, you've got security and a family and you don't even realise how hard it's been for people like me."

It was quiet again, and Ste went over this in his mind. He licked his lips before he spoke up again. "I think we're a lot more similar than we realise," he said slowly.

Joel finally turned to look at him.

"I haven't just had everything handed to me you know."

"Really." Joel said, doubtful.

"Really. You know where my parents are?"

"…No."

"Neither do I."

Joel looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Me mam's an alcoholic, my dad… well, fuck-knows where he is, he scarpered before I was old enough to even remember what he looked like… then there was Terry, and he, well, he used to beat the living daylights out of me mam and me. She didn't leave him of course, she never would. So I did. And then there was Young Offenders, for the drugs and the joyriding and the stealing when I was a teenager- oh yeah," he replied to Joel's surprised expression with a nod, "and I got Amy hurt. I used to hit her years ago, and I'm not proud of that, not at all. What else… I nearly lost Lucas to a couple of baby snatchers. I lied about Leah having cancer for charity money. Then I blackmailed Brendan and Cheryl for me job at Chez Chez."

Joel was looking at him wide-eyed.

"Do you think I'm proud of any of those things?" He asked, feeling like he was telling off his little brother all of a sudden.

Joel looked away and shook his head. "No."

"No." He paused for a few moments. "The truth is, Joel, I have no idea how or why so many people seem to love me. Must be me charm, or sex appeal, or what is it? Char- Chrisma? Or whatever it's called." He said, screwing his face up and looking confused for a minute, and then he shook his head and continued. "I know I turned me life around after Young Offenders but I've never been perfect. But it certainly didn't come easy, let me tell ya. I'm not naturally smart, so I didn't do well at school. And getting people to trust me again, learning how to be a good dad, trying to find a job to look after me family… and that's before we even get into the disaster that was my relationship with Brendan. None of that stuff has been easy for me."

Joel was silent again, taken aback by the weight of the confession.

"So you've got no reason to feel cheated by me. I've had to deal with enough shit my life and I'm only twenty-two. The only reason I've got to where I am now is because, like you said, I've had to fight tooth and nail for everything."

Joel nodded, finally looking up at him. He was deep in thought for a few minutes, and then he spoke again. "Truce?" He asked, holding his hand out to him.

"Truce." Ste replied, shaking it.

[~]


End file.
